


Need

by prettylittlepetticoats



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jon Snow, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, BAMF Jon Snow, BAMF Sansa Stark, Endgame Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Eventual Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Filthiest Thing I Have Ever Written, Filthy, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark are Cousins, Jon Snow is King in the North, King Jon Snow, Knotting, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sansa Stark, Oral Sex, POV Sansa Stark, Rough Sex, Sansa Stark-centric, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, lots o' smut, vague plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlepetticoats/pseuds/prettylittlepetticoats
Summary: 'It was as though her body had been struck by lightning, but instead of dying she felt as though she had absorbed all of the energy from it, absorbed it and now it was running through her, in her veins. But no, lightning wasn’t running through her veins, it was fire'She reaches her 19th nameday and as the clock strikes midnight she begins to burn. Burn with a need, a need she has never felt before. She needs him, she needs him between her legs, at her breast and in line with her heart. She has never wanted anyone so much, and never needed anyone as badly as she does him. / Jonsa, Oneshot, Smut.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 258
Collections: Where The Wild Things Are





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> y'aalllll, how do I keep writing these smut jonsa stories and how do they keep getting dirtier each time? I wasn't blushing when I wrote this I was squealing at the pure filth. 
> 
> enjoy you animals. 
> 
> songrecs: wicked games - the weeknd

He’d come back _different_.

That was what people whispered, that the new King had come back from the dead, like some kind of god, defeating all enemies including the final enemy, _death_.

_Not today._

People looked at him awe struck when he passed, worshippers at the weirwood trees sent prayers to him, they honoured him with shrines in their homes, they adored him. Robb, the King before him had been loved by his men, but with the new King? It was more than adoration, it was pure devotion, it was complete and utter dedication.

They had placed a crown on his head when he had defeated the Bolton’s, they had screamed his name, and after the Battle at the Wall, the War for the Dawn which he had fought, which he had rallied for they screamed his name again. As the North fully turned its back on the South, left the Dragon Queen and Mad Lannister to fight their War, they loved him.

She did too.

But he was more than the figure people eyed with reverence, he was more than this man who many thought of as a god. To her it went beyond that.

He was Jon, he was _her_ Jon. The brother who she knows as a cousin now, the man who had saved her, protected her and yet _more than that_. He empowered her. Any man could have lopped Petyr Baelish’s head off, any man could have kissed her cheek as he ran to defend the Wall, any man could have promised to come back safely. But Jon? Jon made her strong.

He trusted her with running Winterfell, he placed her in charge of the last defence, _home_. Whilst he was fighting at the Wall, Valyrian Steel in hand, facing down the Others, she was at home, feeding the women and children and sick left behind, manning the defences, fortifying the walls. He trusted her to do that, and that made her love him more than anything.

So many people could protect her, but Jon had shown her she was more than capable of protecting herself.

 _‘And protecting me’_ He had joked, and yet she could see he was serious, he trusted her that much. She had near welled up at that but caught herself before tears fell.

She didn’t care about being pretty or ladylike anymore, she wanted to be useful, to be strong, and Jon had shown her she was just that.

When he returned she had never felt such acute relief. When he had rode through the gates, the army still fairly intact behind him she had forgotten all courtesy and ran to him. She had thrown herself into his arms and forced herself not to sob. He had held her so close they had almost become two people.

The people bowed to him, curtsied, worshipped him. If he had been a god before, riding into Winterfell having led the defence against the Others … now he was _their god._

Which made it that much, _much_ harder when she hit her 19th nameday.

For as soon as midnight struck on her nameday, her 19th, suddenly she was _different_ too.

* * *

She woke up in the night, after a roaring celebration that had been partly for her nameday but mostly for the victory (as she had insisted). There had been much drinking, lots of laughter and only two fistfights. She and Jon had remained side by side, drinking, laughing, grinning.

Happy.

She had been tempted to turn in early, but Tormund had called her a wimp and she had glared at him before reaching for more wine. The wildlings had laughed at that, Tormund had threatened to steal her _‘kissed by fire’_ , and Jon had punched him, and then more laughter. A standard wildling affair, two minutes later Tormund and Jon were laughing together again.

It was good, it felt good, and by the time she stumbled to her room, Jon clutching her arm to steady her (and himself a little she suspected), she felt like she needed to sleep for a week.

“Night Jon” She had slurred, and he had grinned before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead which she had leaned into.

“Night San-sa” He slurred too before nodding his head and heading to his room. She squashed the urge she had to yell for him to stay.

For she did want him to stay.

Before he had left, she, had felt closer to Jon than cousins had right to be, but now? Now he had returned, a defender of their home? A warrior who had protected their people? Ugh, she tried not to think about it.

For anything like that with Jon would be _far_ too complicated. He was the most eligible bachelor in the Kingdoms. The Dragon Queen had eyed him and then turned away in a huff when he had refused her. Pretty Margaery Tyrell had winked at him, and several of the wildling girls threatened to steal _him_. She was not getting into that contest, not when she knew she’d lose.

For though she had started to see Jon in a different way, she knew he didn’t see her like that. And so, it was pointless to speculate on.

If King’s Landing had given her anything positive, it was her ability to be logical. She knew Jon had no interest in her like that – probably saw her as his little sister still (though she had easily skipped to cousin and falling in love with him, for they’d barely been raised as siblings), hence pointless.

For she had fallen in love with him, that she could admit to herself now, and she found it nice to be able to admit it.

When she had thought he was still her brother she had fought those feelings, her heart heavy with self loathing and disgust. Hearing he was her cousin had lightened that, and now he had returned alive and well she felt lighter even.

She had made her peace that she loved him, she loved Jon, her King.

And she had made her peace that he didn’t love her back, not in that way.

She had.

Until it hit midnight.

* * *

She awoke with a gasp so loud she was sure the rest of the Castle must have heard it too.

Sweat now peppered her brow, her chest was slick as well, she was rubbing her thighs together so hard she might burn, and her entire body felt like it was on fire.

She felt dizzy, thirsty, and so very awake. It was as though her body had been struck by lightening, but instead of dying she felt as though she had absorbed all of the energy from it, absorbed it and now it was running through her, in her veins.

But no, lightening wasn’t running through her veins, it was _fire_.

She felt as though she were stood too close to a naked flame, as though she had jumped in a scalding bath, as though she had dipped her toe in lava. Sweat trickled down her neck, she thrashed on the bed, head side to side, thighs rubbing together, fists clutching at the sheets.

_Too much, too much._

She had never felt anything like this before. It was awful.

Everything was burning, everything felt as though it were on fire. Her skin, her lungs, her chest, her heart, and then the place between her legs. That felt worst of all. Throbbing, constantly, as though someone had placed a pulse between her legs. It as awful, and yet her body was screaming at her that it could feel good, it should feel good, but not here, not now, not whilst she was alone.

A whine left her lips, and she felt as though her body might break, or as though she’d be consumed by the flames, burn up in this bed and turn to ash. A maid would come by in the morning and find Sansa Stark gone, with only a pile of ash on the bed, all that was left. Fire chasing through her veins, licking through her, making her ache.

Ache with _need_.

As she managed to focus, just a hint, she realised the fire was driving her, driving to her to what she desperately needed. She needed relief, she needed help, she desperately needed someone to press their hands to her, fist her hair, grab her waist, place their fingers against her throbbing core and make her come undone.

This was where the burning was from, this was what hurt, this was what she needed. She needed to come undone.

And she knew who she needed the second she saw him.

As she was twisting on her bed, near sobbing with need the door opened with a crash. It jolted her, and for just a second or two she was distracted, turned her head and saw who had come in, who had forced themselves past her locked door, who was standing in front of her now, in all magnificence and glory.

 _Jon_.

A second or two of distraction, and then the ache intensified, intensified to a point where it was unbearable. Before she had known she needed relief, needed someone to pin her down and fuck her until it hurt. And she would have blushed at such dirty, wanton, unladylike thoughts had she not been so desperate to have just that. She had known that before she needed that, but as Jon crashed into the room and looked at her, she knew now she needed him.

It was worse so much worse, the burning, the ache, the _need_. So much worse now she realised who she needed it from and needed it now.

Right now.

“Sansa” His voice was filled with concern, “I heard you wake up” Had she been that loud? She didn’t care, she was just glad he had come. He looked worried, and yet there was something else, something she couldn’t quite identify lurking beneath his worry. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the room and his eyes widened.

“Jon” She whimpered, managing to still her tossing for just a moment, though she still squirmed against the sheets, her thighs slick now, her insides like jelly, her hands hurting from how hard she was squeezing them into fists. “Jon” She whined again. Did he know? Could he smell her desire for him? Understand her whining and moaning was all for him? She felt no embarrassment, she hoped he knew.

She didn’t know what she expected, for him to ask her he was okay, for him to run and get the Maester perhaps, or to just run, what she didn’t expect was for him to come over to her, pull her to him, and kiss her.

And yet, that was exactly what he did.

He kicked the door shut behind him and then he was on her, pulling her up to kiss him, she had hoped upon touching him, as she did, as soon as he grabbed her waist, her hands found their way to his hair, twisted in it, clutched him tight so he couldn’t pull away, so he’d never let go, as she wouldn’t. She had expected the burning to calm, to feel the relief, and yet somehow it felt worse again.

“I’m here” It was a promise, a promise that rang like music in her ears, “I’m here” It was exactly what she needed to hear, but she needed more than words.

“Jon please” She didn’t want to beg, and yet she had to. She needed him, she needed him so much it hurt. “Jon” She whined again, and he nodded, dropped his lips to kiss her neck and she shivered in his hold.

She had no idea what this was, but it felt right, it felt _correct_ , it felt like it was a calling from the gods themselves. She needed this, and as Jon pulled her close, as he nipped and licked at her neck, she realised, he needed this too.

“What is this?” She found some coherency to ask and Jon lifted his lips to kiss the corner of her lips, then her cheeks, forehead, eyelids and then back to her neck. Somehow the kisses on her face felt more intimate than him licking and biting at her neck, though she loved all of it.

“You’re in heat” He growled, and she shivered at his tone, she was burning, still burning for him. Because she realised now as he held her, as his fingers dug into her waist, as she clutched at his shoulders, it was for him, and only him.

“That’s a myth” She gasped back, as he backed them onto the bed, and she fell down, Jon coming down on top of her. She adjusted for him, and her hands found his tunic pulled it over his head before his lips were back on her skin, as though he couldn’t stand not to be kissing her, not to have his tongue on her skin.

She realised then the emotion she’d seen lingering behind the initial worry for her had been desire, and now she could see it plain as day, and it made her want to shout in joy.

But it was a myth what he was suggesting, just as grumpkins and snarks were. A myth from the Age of Heroes, of Alphas and Omegas, wolf mating rituals somehow found in wargs and First Men, pairing couples perfectly. Most people were Betas, and never knew it to be anything, went about life as normal, but some men were Alphas, aggressive, powerful, _warriors_. And then even fewer women were Omegas, beautiful, magical, _strong_.

When an Omega developed usually on her 18th, 19th or 20th nameday she usually found her Alpha quickly, whilst in heat, and the two were bonded from there on out. It all made sense now she thought on it, and yet it couldn’t be true, even though the so-called myth applied to her circumstances perfectly.

“It is” She gasped as Jon’s tongue found the shell of her ear and she trembled against him, it was like he knew her every pleasure point immediately, even though she didn’t know them herself.

“No, it’s not” His lips found her neck again, and he seemed to be searching for something, and then he found it, a tingly spot she had noticed come up a few weeks ago, a spot that she now realised on a wolf would be where a fellow wolf marked them.

Jon was right.

“Oh god” She cried, and as soon as she accepted it, she knew, “ _Alpha_ ” She whined, and Jon growled into her throat then.

Yes, that confirmed it, and Sansa had never felt so happy, had never felt like anything in her life had been as right as this. “Alpha” She moaned again, and he nipped at her throat then, he trembled a bit against her too, and she felt strong. For Alphas were powerful, dominant, Omegas would submit, but could still hold their own. That felt perfect for her and Jon.

Her Alpha, _hers_. It felt right, and she could feel Jon against her, and she knew what came next. She knew what she wanted to come next, and she found herself parting her legs, _ready_. She wanted this, she needed this, she needed it now, and she needed it from Jon.

“I’m ready” She managed to say, and then her nightgown was gone, Jon tore it away and threw the scraps of fabric behind him, then his trousers were gone, roughly pulled off, and then they were both naked and she braced herself, spread her legs and waited, waited for that moment.

And yet, it didn’t come. Instead Jon was moving, leaving her, and she near sobbed as his weight left her. “Jon what are you…” She didn’t finish the sentence that had been filled with worry, as all worry was gone as it was made clear just what he was doing.

What he was doing was sending her to _nirvana_.

The first lick of his tongue against her core nearly broke her, the second made her scream so loud she was sure she had awoken everyone in the North, the third had her sobbing, and then she lost count. He licked and licked against her core, flicking her clit with his tongue, his fingers finding their way to her entrance, and he pushed one and then two in. He worked her, the slick finding her thighs, and yet he continued to lick at her, suck on her little nub, bite it gently.

“So good” He moaned into her core and that undid her almost as much as his mouth on her, “You taste so good” He groaned and she found herself preening under the compliment, she wanted to please him, just as he did her. “God Sansa, so good, so wet for me, fuck”

As he bit her, with the dirty words on his tongue, and continued to fuck her with his fingers (she wasn’t blushing at such dirty thoughts now), she screamed, an explosion taking over her, making her see stars, making her feel as though she had jumped off the Wall and rather than fallen had _flown_. “Jon!” She called his name hoping the gods would hear, to know they had one of their own down here, but she wasn’t giving him back, _never_ giving him back, not in life, not in death, he was hers, as she was his, from this day, until the end of their days.

It was intense, and as she came down from that high she felt like she was floating down, gently drifting back onto the bed from whatever place she had been and gone, and yet it wasn’t over, she knew that, it was far from over, she didn’t want it to be over.

“Jon I still need you” It was a promise, and he climbed back up to her, and yet as she spread her legs again, far enough for her thighs to burn she still didn’t feel him.

“What is it?” She asked, squirming now, desperate, desperate for him to take that final step, to be complete, to be perfect. “Jon?”

“Sansa” He paused then, resting his forehead to hers. He looked conflicted. She looked as though he wanted to ravish her in one second or run for the door in the next. She was desperate for the former, felt she might cry if he did the latter. “If we do this, we bond”

She remembered the myth, she knew what it meant, and yet if anything she tried to spread her legs wider.

“I know” She said, and she knew then as she looked at him, as she saw the hint of panic in his eyes, she knew, this wasn’t just because of her heat, she didn’t want him to fuck her and bite her and bond them for life because her body was screaming at her that this was right, it was more than that.

She had loved him before, and she would love him after. Alpha, Omega, Beta, mating rituals, bonding, none of that changed what she had felt before, what she felt for him, her _King_.

“I love you” She said, she would tell him, so he could make his choice, as it wasn’t just hers, “I loved you before, I knew since you came home, I loved you before, I love you now, I’ll love you after” She had, she did, she would. “It is your choice”

For it was, she had made hers a long time ago, made hers when he had come back through the gate, tired and bruised but the King who had defended her home, _their home_. She had felt it before, had known then, and she knew now.

“Oh thank god” And then his lips were on hers again and she felt him smile into the kiss, “I thought it was just me, thank the gods” And then he was just kissing her, and his hands found her hair, and her arms wrapped around his neck. The burning returned, so intense she didn’t think she could talk anymore, not one bit. She needed this, needed him, and as he lined himself up, she choked back a sob.

“You love me” Three words she could manage, and as he lined up and thrust inside of her, the next word he spoke was the best she’d ever heard.

“ _Yes_ ”

That was the word she was screaming just seconds later.

“Jon” She whined as he thrust into her, as he pulled out and then back in. It didn’t hurt, even though she had remained a virgin, even though none had taken the maidenhood she had so closely guarded. It didn’t hurt at all, as he settled into her, far too big and yet fitting perfectly, it felt right, it felt utterly _perfect_.

“I love you” She choked out, and then he kissed her forehead again, eyelids, cheeks, and then her lips.

“I love you too”

And then he began a rhythm against her, and she was moaning, writhing, pulling him closer, so close it was as though they were fused. He held her so tightly, his fingers digging into her waist, and then her thigh as he hitched her leg up onto his hip.

“Fuck” He was talking again, and she wasn’t sure if the dirty words he spouted or his I love you’s were better, perhaps the latter, but only just. “Feels so good” He groaned into her, “Good girl, such a good girl, fuck, so tight”

“Oh god” She moaned out and she felt and heard him growl into her throat as she squeezed him, squeezed him so tightly she wasn’t sure if it hurt him to pull in and out.

“Fuck” He moaned against her then, and she felt better when she knew it didn’t hurt, it was pure pleasure for him, as it was for her. “So good Sansa, so good” He groaned, “You’re mine, all mine”

“Yes” She nodded, she was his, she’d scream it in the courtyard, from the rooftops so all could hear, “I’m yours” He liked that she could tell as he pushed into her harder, growled, he liked her saying that.

“Flip over” He demanded as he took her, and she followed his words without even a second’s hesitation. She was on her front quickly, and then he pulled her to her knees and pushed back inside, and she was sure she’d never felt anything so good. She had thought she would object to being rutted like a wolf, but if anything, it felt even more glorious.

“Fuck” She wasn’t one to swear, she hated when Arya did it, and despised how vulgar the wildlings were, and yet she couldn’t help herself, not as Jon slammed into her, held her hips so tightly she was sure she might bruise.

“Mine” He roared again, and she nodded.

“Yours” Always.

In and out, in and out and she felt that build up again and yet she knew as it started that this was going to be intense, much, _much_ more intense. She wasn’t sure she could handle it, and yet as he slammed into her again and again, as she felt him thicken inside of her (which she wasn’t even sure was possible, and yet it must have been as he seemed to grow inside of her, stretching her to her _absolute_ limit), as he pulled her up and nuzzled her neck, she knew what was coming, she still wasn’t sure she could handle it, and yet it still came.

She screamed as the orgasm took her, as her body shook with pleasure, as every nerve felt as though a match had been taken to it, as though her entire body had been engulfed in flames. She screamed, and clenched around Jon, she heard him growl, and then his teeth were at his neck, and he bit down.

And everything went white.

She couldn’t see, hear, think, speak, she couldn’t feel anything but _pure_ pleasure. A ragged scream left her lips as he came inside of her, thick and full, filling her up to the utter brim. She heard him groan, a deep guttural sound that wrung more pleasure from her. As he filled her, as he held her tight. She had never known anything like it.

And even as her senses came back, as the pleasure continued to roll over her in waves, as his teeth tugged at the bite before he licked it, over and over as she came, riding her through that pleasure, she wasn’t sure she could ever feel anything like that again.

Afterward she saw stars.

He lowered them down onto the bed, still inside of her, as she knew he would be until he returned to normal size. He pulled them down, and then hauled her into his arms, still licking at the bite he’d left, still full inside of her, and yet the burning was gone.

Instead she just felt _divine_.

Every nerve ending felt as though it were tingling, she felt as though she must be glowing, it felt perfect. She had never known such pleasure, and it was all the better because Jon had given it to her, Jon was hers, her Alpha.

“Do you really love me?” She asked as they settled down, as Jon pulled a blanket over them, even still nestled inside of her, and she felt him smile into her neck as she snuggled closer to him.

“I have ever since I reunited with you Sansa” Her heart swelled at his words, and she knew she was grinning from ear to ear, she knew he was smiling too. “I love you”

“I love you” They’d work out what to tell people, how to handle it all later, for now she settled into his arms, into Jon’s arms, and having never felt so safe, so happy or so full of bliss did she fall asleep.

 _Hers_.

**Author's Note:**

> soo thoughts? 
> 
> comment if you liked and if you wanna see more jonsa smut. 
> 
> *shameless plug* check out my new stark based wip, 'winter is here' 
> 
> ty


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